Grave Intentions by Lori Sjoberg Page B

“You were smiling, like you used to when you were a little girl.”
    Sarah’s heart twisted into a knot. “I never stopped smiling, Grandma.”
    “No, but you lost something when your mother passed away.” Pearl settled into the rocking chair by the window, her frail body engulfed by the large wooden frame. “You were never quite the same.”
    Losing your mother at the age of seven tended to take the spring out of a young girl’s step. Not to mention the hushed whispers between older relatives who didn’t realize the youngest Griffith was listening from the security of her closet fort. She’d been horrified to learn about her mother’s psychosis, and the fact that mental illness ran deep in her family. The knowledge had haunted her ever since.
    “But in my vision, you looked so happy,” Pearl continued, her voice becoming more animated as she spoke. She pushed back against the floor and the chair began to lightly rock. “And I was able to see the man more clearly this time.”
    “You did?” Sarah said, taking the path of least resistance. Besides, she wanted to see how far Pearl was willing to take her latest delusion. “What did he look like?”
    “Well, he was a handsome young man,” Pearl began, her eyes turning distant as if she were recreating the image in her mind. “Rugged, with blond hair and the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen.”
    “Blue eyes, you say?”
    Pearl’s thin brows knitted. “No, not quite blue. Actually, they were closer to a pale gray. Most striking.”
    That got Sarah’s attention. “And what was this man doing?”
    “He was holding you in his arms, looking so happy his heart might burst. Your grandfather used to hold me the same way.” Pearl smiled, and the creases at the corners of her eyes fanned out and deepened. “His name started with a D. Danny, Don, Darren . . .”
    “David?” Sarah’s breath caught in her throat.
    “That’s it!” Pearl’s face brightened. “David. He’s going to make you a very happy woman.”
    And at that moment Sarah realized she’d fallen for one of the oldest tricks in the book. As a child, she’d seen Pearl use cold readings during her sessions, had watched her use a variety of vague, generalized statements and questions to draw information from her clients to use in her predictions.
    For a fleeting moment, she’d bought into the facade, hook, line, and sinker. Even worse, she’d wanted to believe it, had secretly yearned for the knowledge that there was someone out there destined to be hers.
    Pathetic.
    If she didn’t watch herself, she’d end up nuttier than a jar of Planters, just like the rest of her family.
     
    David swung into the parking lot of Shackles Bar & Grill a few minutes before five, just in time for happy hour. Only a few cars filled the lot, but he knew that would quickly change as people got out of work and sought solace in the form of cheap beer and stale nachos. Without a doubt, he could relate. God knows he was looking forward to a few rounds of liquid relaxation after a grueling afternoon of doom and gloom.
    Adam hadn’t spoken for over an hour, ever since he collected the soul of the woman strangled by her husband. He sat motionless in the passenger seat, his eyes staring straight ahead and a sour expression plastered across his face.
    “We’re here,” David said as he cut the engine. He nodded toward the building. “Come on. I’ll buy the first round.”
    Adam’s gaze flicked over to the bar, then back to David, and then back to the bar. He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it with a shake of his head. Without a word, he stepped out of the car and walked toward the building with the grace of a catatonic zombie.
    Once inside, they wove a path through the tables, settling on the one in the back corner near the bathrooms. Adam took the chair by the wall while David signaled the waitress for a pitcher and two mugs.
    “Congratulations, Newbie,” David said as he sank into the chair